


The biggest fool

by Elisexyz



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Banter, Gen, Minor Injuries, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:28:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24608458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: “Oh, come on!” Jaskier protests, vehemently. “He was being a total asshole, it was like a punishment from Melitele herself! How was I supposednotto laugh?”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 16
Kudos: 144





	The biggest fool

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Tumblr prompt: ["And then you laughed." + Geraskier.](https://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/620380403791953920/66-geraskier)

“— so he fell flat on his face, and —”

Geralt closes his eyes in a show of deep, _deep_ exasperation. “And then you laughed,” he completes, matter-of-fact, because there is no doubt in his mind that that is exactly what happened.

Jaskier, sporting an enormous black eye and a split lip, pouts. “It was more of a giggle, really. He didn’t have to take it so _personally_.”

Geralt sighs, shaking his head at him and wondering how it is that this man, always seeking and _finding_ trouble at every turn, has survived this long.

When he came back from disposing of the Kikimora that had pushed the townsfolk to ask for his help, he found Jaskier in their room, instead of downstairs to ‘enjoy the company of those that are in the habit of using more than two syllables at the time to communicate’, and the reason why became evident as soon as he took a look at his face.

Geralt’s immediate reaction was anger, unsurprisingly so at this point, but he quickly tamed it when he realized that Jaskier was well enough to begin complaining as soon as he laid eyes on him and that there was about a 50% chance that he’d been the one to start the brawl as well.

(This doesn’t mean that the urge to go search for the bastard and retaliate isn’t still pummelling at the back of his mind, but he can deal with it.)

“Oh, come on!” Jaskier protests, vehemently. “He was being a total asshole, it was like a punishment from Melitele herself! How was I supposed _not_ to laugh?”

“By exercising some restraint,” he says, evenly.

Jaskier hums noncommittally, considering him. “Is that what you do when you pretend that I’m not the most hilarious person you’ve ever met?”

“No, it’s what I do whenever I realize how easy it’d be to strangle you in your sleep.”

“Ow, you wound me, Geralt,” he complains, raising his hand to cover his heart just to highlight his point. His knuckles are bruised and bloodied, and Geralt has to suppress a smile at the sight, a surge of pride washing through him: he probably wasn’t talking out of his ass when he said that he gave as good as he got.

He gives him a quick onceover, trying to spot any additional damage, which prompts Jaskier to wave him off.

“They separated us before it could go very far,” he says, dismissively. “ _Now_ —” He clicks his tongue, leaning forward with that curious glint in his eyes that by now makes Geralt groan automatically. “— why don’t you tell me all about your latest heroic deed?”

Geralt blinks at him, finding it within himself to be a little amused by Jaskier’s unwavering and hopeful smile, as if he still somehow believed that there’s a decent chance he will easily get the whole story out of him.

“I killed it,” he says, flatly, half because he’s tired and not in the mood to be grilled about _details_ , half because the temptation to fuck with him is too strong.

Jaskier pouts. “Come on, you’ve gotta give me more than that.”

Geralt hums, beginning to take off his armour, which he had forgotten to do given the distraction that awaited him in their room.

“Come _on_ ,” Jaskier says, just short of a whine. “I’m _injured_! Have some _compassion_!”

Geralt raises his eyebrows, giving him the most sceptical look he can come up with – _compassion_? Seriously? –, to which Jaskier just huffs, walking up to him help him out of his armour, as it’s been their habit for quite a while.

“Are you _seriously_ not going to tell me _anything_?” Jaskier eventually tries again, looking at him with big eyes and a pout.

“There isn’t much to tell.”

It’s the truth, actually: part of the reason why he convinced Jaskier to stay behind is that he’s already seen him slay a few Kikimoras over the years and he admitted that generally speaking there wasn’t _that_ much to write about.

“I believe you, but I’m feeling _very_ inspired, so, please? Just be a dear and give me a little nudge?”

Jaskier gives him his brightest smile, looking ever so hopeful, and Geralt finds himself rolling his eyes and giving in. Again.

He is turning into an idiot who kneels over all too easily, and it’s going to get him killed someday. He is going to die telling himself ‘I told you so’.

Mere minutes later, while Jaskier is walking around the room in big strides and turning his very succinct retell into a ridiculously embellished story, looking so stupidly _happy_ as he does it, Geralt elects that he can actually live with that.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates comments, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


End file.
